The 1950s were a special time when America was afraid that the Soviet Union was going to nuke us off the planet. But, it was also a time of good girl going to the big city and being exploited. This DVD is a tale of the latter, as buxom babes bare all for greasy conmen.

The Lowdown

The Flesh Merchants kicks off the first disc of Skin in the Fifties. It’s a seedy exploitation picture made in the mid 1950s, while sexual tension and dirty feelings ran high. There’s very little nudity in the film outside of stock footage, but it hits that kind of cheesy sleaze that auteurs struggle for years to obtain. When you put in the first disc, you’re greeted to a collection of the most graphic trailers this side of the 42nd Street of yesteryear. Ladies are getting rammed, slammed and jammed by various guys. Hell, they even have some lady on lady action. This shit is before the main menu.

Sony was a little iffy on a Hostel Prequel, but they had a couple of Three Stooges sets left over.

Then, you get through some more trailers and the main menu. Before you start The Flesh Merchants, you get the option to view the extended scenes and short bonus films. The content is pretty simple, if you don’t choose the exploitation flick main feature. You can see women fight in the nude, swim and do other activities. Everything plays as more of a burlesque and less of a direct raunchy factor. But, what it does is art.

It’s a lost art of playing up the sexiness of the fully developed amateur woman without relying on the airbrushing and heavy lights that Hefner used to create and destroy the industry. This release captures that time right before Burlesque was forced to be mainstream into Softcore and then into a revival novelty act. It’s kind of hard to critically go in-depth about a DVD release that is a public-domain skin flick coupled with five minute long shorts about attempted fornication and exhibition. I’m not complaining about it, as I’ve been won over by Secret Key has won me over with their dedicated to saving the 42nd Street classics for a new generation. Not enough people get what rocks so hard about having these antiquarian looks at what your grandfather found sexy.

The old lady that gave you pennies every Halloween doesn’t want you to know how she earned that money.

The Package

Skin in the Fifties is a godsend for fans of skin flicks. The film elite get their Criterion Collection releases every month, but the blue films get neglected. They’re often passed over in favor of these dime a dozen Vivid releases and you’re left wanting to now where did the Porno film start? But, that’s probably just me. I’m the type of person that has to over examine every little detail of what I see. Such as the fact that these short films were always about corrupting innocent archetypes.

Hello, young woman! I’m making a woman suit in my basement and I need a model.

You have your Sales Girls, Art Students, a College Graduate and the natural sunbathers who all just want your attention. But, your attention isn’t good enough for them, so they decide to take it off. There’s no story here, there’s only the best trim that 1954 had to offer. While talking with some readers, I discovered that the idea of ogling what is sure to be Octogenarian or deceased poon is enough to make them vomit. I feel bad that I have to play Fabfunk’s Advocate and suggest that you take all things into consideration.

My turn-ons are smashing commies, watching Ronald Reagan films and preparing Baltimore for the coming of Cthulu. My turn-offs are mislabeled water fountains and equal rights.

Sure, the ladies all know of a time when candy cost a penny and a ten dollar bill could get you into the Copa to see Bobby Darin. But, don’t think of them as people. It sounds horrible, but it’s true. The audience sees them as curiosities frozen in time for your perverted perusal. These ladies were fantasies in a time where the bikini was daring and sexual indiscretions were never spoken in mixed company. They exist in the fleeting memories of men too old to do anything about it and in the stolen looks of lucky older kids that snuck a glance when no one was minding the stag films.

That ass sold more war bonds than you ever did. When she bares all, you better salute.

The trailers for the other Secret Key DVDs caught my eye like you wouldn’t believe. I found my eyes drifting off the women of antiquity and into the teases of 60s and 70s pornography. I would be amiss not to address the sense of envy I felt at being part of the Home Video generation that only knew mass-produced entertainment of all kinds. There are no Grindhouses, adult theaters, picturehouse dives and illicit assortments for my brood. There are only these collections and the occasional clip on YouPorn to give us a look back at a time before Hefner. The long ago era were pubic hair was plentiful and they didn’t even pretend that they gave a shit about the dialogue. Good bye, Golden Age of American Skin Flicks. You might be gone, but never shall you be forgotten.

Due to the Korean Conflict, the role of the Pizza Guy will be played by the neighborhood librarians.

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